


I Know What You Need

by Sherlaufeyson



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Discipline, M/M, Office Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 22:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17837348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlaufeyson/pseuds/Sherlaufeyson
Summary: Alan Shore has been acting out of control lately. Brad Chase knows what he really needs.Set shortly after Alan's altercation with Brad in the breakout room of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.Spoilers S1E14: 'Til We Meat Again





	I Know What You Need

“What was all that about, sport?”

Bradley Chase had just barged into Alan Shore’s office unannounced. The hairs on the back of Alan’s neck pricked up. He wasn’t quite sure whether in fight or flight mode yet.

“What exactly are you getting at, Brad?” 

“The shoving. Trying to start a fight with me in the middle of the breakout area. Are you that eager to be emasculated in public?”

A muscle twitched in Alan’s neck, right under his jaw.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, sport.” Alan’s tone was a warning. A clear indication that their conversation had come to an abrupt end.

He dragged his gaze away from Brad, turning his attention to the lack of paperwork on his desk. He really did need to be working on a case that wasn’t his own.

He heard the door shut and then, surprisingly, a lock click. He looked up, and Brad was walking towards him.

“Oh, Alan. I think you do. This has been brewing for a while. You’re desperate for it.”

Alan swallowed reflexively, schooling his face into an inscrutable expression giving nothing away. He was good at it. He was possibly the finest trial attorney in the state.

“Desperate for what, Brad?” He challenged, imbuing his tone with a tinge of exasperation.

“You think you’re so much smarter than me, but I know what’s really going on.” Brad was maintaining eye contact with him, pink mouth contorted into that smug, infuriating expression. Alan had a sinking feeling he was about to lose the upper hand. 

Brad continued, “Antagonising Paul; talking back to Judge Atkinson; provoking me in the kitchen. You’re aching to be put in your place.”

Alan felt his blood rushing south. This couldn’t be happening, not _Brad_. Not ex-marine, all-American good guy, ken doll Bradley Chase. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or humiliated. Or if those two emotions were combining into an intoxicating, heady mix of relieved humiliation, or humiliated relief. Either way, he found himself helplessly incapable of retort.

“I…”

“You won’t even argue it? Oh, Alan. I’ve been waiting for this.”

Alan felt hopeless, clutching his fingers at his sides, standing behind his desk. Unable to find cover for the hardness in his trousers that was becoming more and more obvious with each passing second.

His eyes were arrested by Brad’s. Piercing blue, with an intelligence he had clearly underestimated before.

“What did you really think was going to happen, Alan?”

Brad was taking slow, measured steps towards the desk, and Alan was trapped.

“Did you think Paul was going to take you over his knee in that big glass-walled conference room? That the judge was going to come up with some Clark Brown form sentence to torture you with? That _I_ was actually going to lay into you in the hallway?”

Alan’s mouth opened and closed several times. Half formed responses in his brain, which it neglected to share with his tongue. 

Brad’s voice took on a kinder tone, “I know what you need.”

Alan nodded dumbly.

“Do you trust me?”

Alan cleared his throat. “I believe I do, Brad.”

“You’re out of control.” Brad’s tone brooked no argument.

“Yes.” Alan’s voice was breathless.

“You need someone to take that control.”

It was so easy to agree with him. 

“You need me to take that control.”

Brad was right. All evidence pointed to the conclusion that he needed to let him take control. How could he have been so slow on the uptake. Alan found himself nodding again.

“Come over here.”

Alan took the seven steps around his desk on autopilot. He wasn’t aware of having made any conscious decision to do so, but clearly he needed to. Brad made no room for him, and Alan found himself tightly pressed between the desk and Brad.

He had never noticed before, but Brad was actually taller than he was. Alan guessed it was because he always chose to engage in confrontation from a seated position. It was also true that Brad didn’t exercise his physical advantage over others for the purposes of intimidation. An unsolicited shiver ran down Alan’s spine. A physically imposing and demanding Bradley Chase was a thought for another time.

Now they were pressed against each other, Alan could feel an answering hardness against his own. He didn’t have a chance to take any comfort in it as Brad took a step backwards, breaking the contact and leaving Alan completely exposed, again.

Alan raised his hand to smooth his own hair down. He felt adrift and needed something to ground him. He didn’t trust his own voice to speak, and as Brad hadn’t given any further instructions, he was lost.

“Hands down by your sides.”

Alan’s arm shot down instantly. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Brad’s mouth. “I didn’t expect obedience to come this naturally to you, Alan.”

The use of his name had a calming effect, and the familiar teasing served to ease a little of the nervous tension in the room, replacing it with anticipation. Alan had no idea where this was going.

“Perhaps I’m not as transparent as you imagine.”

Brad didn’t answer him, instead unbuttoning his jacket. Alan’s eyes followed the movements of his fingers hungrily. He noticed how confidently they moved. Precise. Deliberate. Everything about Brad was measured. Even when he was going on one of his famously verbose, high-velocity rants, his timing was always impeccable, his diction infallible.

After the jacket was removed, Brad folded it over a chair, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves halfway. Alan found his mouth dry as he watched the corded muscles of Brad’s forearms twisting slowly under taut, evenly tanned skin. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Brad. Instead of making a teasing remark, he squared his shoulders and faced Alan.

Alan’s breath caught.

“You do need to be taught a lesson.”

“I do.” Alan said, without a hint of mirth or mocking.

“It seems like I’m the only person in this firm who is going to stand up to you, and give you what you need.” The statement came out like a question, and Alan was unsure from whom Brad needed reassurance.

Alan offered it anyway, “I believe so.”

“Safeword?”

“You surprise me, Brad.”

“Turn around.”

Alan turned around immediately, facing his desk. For the first time since he’d looked up to find Brad unexpectedly still standing in his office, Brad wasn’t in his line of sight.

Brad was silent behind him and Alan found his breath quickening, anxiety setting in. Was Brad still there? Had this been some sort of joke? Was he going to be abandoned again?

Alan felt a strong hand on his shoulder. The firm weight and pressure alleviated his concerns in an instant. He felt so light he could have laughed.

Brad’s voice sounded right next to his ear. “First things first,” he whispered, reaching his arms around to undo Alan’s suit jacket and ease it off his shoulders.

“Safeword?”

Alan shivered again. “Lesbian.”

He felt a puff of air against his neck. Brad had obviously found amusement in his choice.

“I’m not going to live that one down.” Alan heard him mutter. 

Alan jumped as a knee came up between his legs, separating them. His balance faltered and he found himself leaning forward over the desk. His hands came up reflexively to stop himself face-planting onto the mahogany. 

“That’s good. Keep them there.” Brad’s voice was close behind him. Alan felt a hand placed in the center of his back, exerting an even pressure until he was bent at the waist over his own desk.

“We’ll keep your trousers on, this time.” The promise in Brad’s voice made Alan’s mouth water. His blood was racing, equally colouring his face and filling his cock. He’d never felt so present.

“I want you to count for me.” Brad’s voice cut through the arousal clouding Alan’s cognition.

He answered the only way his mind and body would allow.

“Yes, sir.”

“’Sir’,” Brad mused. “I like that.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The only words I want to hear out of you are consecutive numbers.”

Brad was pleased at Alan’s silence. Getting the man to stop talking was a herculean task on any given day, and he’d achieved it multiple times in the space of fifteen minutes. 

Brad’s hand came down with a sharp smack. The expensive fabric of Alan’s trousers, beautifully tailored, stretched deliciously around his backside. 

“One.”

True to his promise, Alan only said the single word required of him. However, the way his fingers clutched at his desk, his body relaxed and he seemed to push further into Brad’s hand as a silent plea for more, spoke volumes.

Brad took back his hand, slightly red from the sting of the impact. He’d subject himself to a thousand times worse if it gave him the chance of doing this again. Alan Shore. Prone beneath him. Practically begging him for a spanking. He couldn’t have imagined this in his wildest dreams. His wildest dreams had a lot to answer for.

Brad Chase had always known he had a thing for discipline. Particularly administering it, which was something you very much needed to keep under wraps in an environment like the military, where so much is discipline based, and god forbid you show that you’re enjoying any of it.

It was something he’d had to hide for so long. Nowadays, he got his small thrills holding himself in a way that elicited unconscious deference from his colleagues and subordinates. That was one of the reasons that Alan had rubbed him up the wrong way. Clearly, he had no idea how much his lack of respect and observance of rank had undermined Brad’s authority in the office. Although, perhaps if he’d have known, it would have been incalculably worse.

Once Alan arrived, Brad stopped being the respected junior partner. He was back at the bottom of the feeding pool, back to begging for scraps of servility.

Their journey to this point was inevitable. They’d both been thrown out of their comfort zones. Alan had the respect and power and responsibility, and needed an escape. Brad was able to provide.

His hand came down harder.

“Two.”

The groan the smack drew from Alan was guttural. Primal. Brad had to press his palm firmly against the front of his dress pants to take off the edge. 

There was something undefinable about Alan’s allure. He oozed charm, yes. But ooze had never appealed to Brad. It came off as smug, and smugness was something he abhorred, in no-one more than himself. Another of the reasons he resented his presence in the office. Alan brought out that side in Brad. The competitive side. Stupid bets with ridiculous forfeits. He remembered the look of delight in his eyes when he suggested Alan might be his elf for the day. Did he even care what the case was about at that point? He half suspected Alan would have been just as happy losing the bet.

It was that damned intellect. Alan was smart and he knew it. Damned smug and he was smug about it. The way his brain worked was sexy as hell, and he traded off it. If brains amounted to sex appeal, Alan would be having… well as much sex as he clearly had been. There wasn’t a female in the office that hadn’t, or didn’t want to sleep with him. Brad was also fairly certain there were very few men who would have kicked him out of their bed.

He brought his hand down on the other cheek this time.

“Three.”

Alan’s knuckles had gone white. His back was contorted under his white shirt, and the hair at the nape of his neck was darkened with moisture. The tops of his thighs were quaking slightly and his breath was coming out in audible pants against his desk.

Another thing about Alan - he didn’t keep himself in peak physical condition. That had always irked him. Brad considered it every person’s duty, as an American, to look after their body. Respect for yourself. Respect for your country. And yet, looking down at the prone form of the man who had done nothing but irritate him since arriving at the firm, Brad couldn’t remember finding anything more attractive.

He couldn’t be sure if it was the dynamic between them, the intelligence he’d just been mulling over, or the noises the man was making. There was also a fourth possibility that he didn’t want to think about - that he found Alan Shore physically attractive. The way his body moved, the softness around his waist, amplified by the way he was pressed against the hard wood. A part of Brad, a very quiet, but very adamant part of Brad wanted nothing more than bury his face in between the man’s shoulder blades. Lose himself kissing, licking and biting until every inch of Alan Shore’s back was marked in tooth marks, love bites and bruises.

He’d haul Alan up by the back of his collar. Sneak both hands around his front to tear the shirt asunder, buttons pinging off in all directions. Shirt ripped off, he’d throw the man back on his desk, dedicate his hands to massaging the soft, warm skin of his sides and cover the man’s back in love bites and kisses. 

“Four.”

That one had been a surprise. He hadn’t know his own hand was coming down until it had made contact. An upwards swing at the underside of his arse cheek, right where it met his upper thigh.

He evened it out quickly with a strike to the other side.

“Five.”

Alan’s steady panting and the rhythmic rise and fall of his back with each laboured breath sent Brad’s mind back to the fantasy of having the man shirtless and pliant beneath him. Once satisfied with his work covering Alan’s back in love bites, he would raise himself up long enough to turn Alan over. He could see Alan’s face in his mind. An expression like the one he’d had earlier, when Brad had ordered him to put his arm down from fussing with his hair. 

Fuck.

The image of Alan licking his lips as Brad rolled his sleeves up was one that would stay with him until his very last breath.

It had taken every inch of his self control not to ruin the moment. Not to make some smart arse comment about liking what he saw. Not to lean forward and kiss him. 

Alan would have let him.

“Six.”

Brad heard an almost inaudible sniff coming from Alan. His voice had wavered nearly imperceptibly giving the count. 

“Very good, Alan.”

The body below him relaxed. It was like watching a sail unfurl. Alan had been getting progressively wound up with each strike, and now he was stretched catlike over the desk.

Brad smoothed his hand over Alan’s backside and there was a sharp intake of breath.

“We’ll have to get you some Aloe vera for that.” Brad’s voice was kind.

Alan huffed an exhalation against the desk. 

“Stand up, Alan.” It was unmistakably an order, but there was real affection in Brad’s voice.

Alan turned over gingerly, standing up. His pupils were blown wide and as he stood, Brad was delighted, if not at all surprised to see that the corporal punishment had done nothing to curb his arousal.

“Thank you, sir.” Alan said.

Brad could not detect an ounce of sarcasm in his gratitude.

“My pleasure.” Brad reached up a hand to straighten Alan’s tie.

Alan raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

Brad placed his hands in the center of Alan’s chest, smoothing them down slightly, before sweeping them out to the sides to rest on his shoulders. Alan’s eyes closed and he swayed gently back and forth.

Brad was taken by surprise when he felt Alan’s hands at his waist, gently sneaking around his back to hold him in a loose hug.

Brad slid his arms over Alan’s shoulders, bringing their chests into contact for a hug. 

Alan rested his chin on Brad’s shoulder.

“Feel better?” Brad broke the silence. Neither of them had ever been _that_ good at keeping quiet for long.

Alan hummed happily, his voice so close to Brad’s ear, causing a shudder to run down his spine. Alan wrapped his arms tighter around Brad.

“Didn’t take you for a hugger.” Brad said.

“I still maintain there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Brad.” 

Brad could hear the amusement in Alan’s tone, but that didn’t stop the visceral reaction that the man’s voice reverberating so close to his ear had. He shuddered again. It was like fingernails ever-so-gently scratching down either side of his spine. It was better than sex.

“Are you okay, Brad?” Alan asked, starting to feel concern over the shakes coming off the younger man.

Brad leaned back to look Alan in the eye. He shook his head and laughed, not unkindly. “Jesus, Alan. The way you say my name. Has anyone told you your voice is the aural embodiment of sex.”

“I have received compliments, yes.”

Brad wanted to put a stop to the smug note he could already hear creeping into Alan’s tone. “Well your spoken word can’t hold a candle to those noises I got out of you.”

Alan groaned, and Brad was gratified to feel Alan’s hips twitch against his own.

“That’s the noise.”

Alan didn’t offer a rebuttal, and so Brad summoned up all the courage with which his training and military tours had provided him.

“Are you doing anything this evening?”

Alan’s face broke out in an honest, unselfconscious smile. “You, I hope.”

\---

Later that night, Brad’s head was pillowed on Alan’s chest, facing the foot of the bed. He was absent-mindedly drawing circles with his finger over Alan’s stomach, along his sides, teasing down to his upper thighs. Brad was enjoying the sensation of Alan’s hand massaging his scalp. Alan was clearly making the most of one of the rare occasions where it was muss-able. This was, by far, the most comfortable Brad had ever been post-coitus.

“Brad.”

Brad watched as goosebumps broke out over his own arm in response to Alan speaking his name. He was going to have to do something about that.

“Yeah, Al.”

“It’s Alan, Bradley.”

“Yeah, Alan?”

“What made you come into my office? Today?” There was a vulnerable note in Alan’s voice, a hesitation as if he hadn’t wanted to ask the question in the first place, and was terrified at the prospect of what the answer might be.

“Well…” Brad chose his words carefully. “I felt like you really needed it. All this week, it’s been like a cry for help.”

Brad felt Alan nod against the top of his head. There was something easy about communication where you could feel the person, but not read their expressions. Reassurance without scrutiny. Although Alan probably had some superpower in deciphering body language as well.

“How long had you wanted to – you know?” Alan asked. He was now stroking Brad’s hair, and Brad felt the stroking a little _too_ uniform. A little too measured.

“I’ve wanted to discipline you since the first time you sat in my chair.” He said decisively.

He felt Alan’s chest quiver with contained laughter. “Oh, so we are territorial about those things? Jesus, all you needed to do was say it, Brad.”

Brad smiled, gently biting at the soft skin and muscle surrounding Alan’s ribcage. 

“I think I’m glad I waited to show you.”

Brad felt Alan’s hand momentarily still in his hair. After a beat, it resumed the divine massage of earlier, “I think I’m glad you did too.”


End file.
